


It Takes a Toll on Me

by GreyMichaela



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, So much kissing, for like five minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: Granted, Jamie hadn’t exactly framed it as a romantic getaway. More of a,hey your parents are going on a cruise and mine went to Europe and Jordie’s going to his girlfriend’s, so why don’t we spend Christmas togetherthing. But still. Tyler had hoped. A snowed-in chalet, eggnog by the fire, Jamie’s warm, beautiful eyes focused solely on him with nothing to distract either of them…He certainly hadn’t envisioned going to Tyson fucking Barrie’s house on Christmas Eve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on vacation and posting on my phone, so please forgive any funky formatting. Let’s also pretend the boys’ schedules would align well enough for this to even be plausible.

* * *

Tyler wasn’t sulking. He _wasn’t._ He didn’t sulk. It was just… when Jamie had invited him to go to Colorado for Christmas, Tyler had thought Jamie was finally going to tell him. Finally admit he had feelings for Tyler and wanted them to be together. At the very least, maybe Tyler would finally get up the nerve to tell _Jamie_ how he felt.

Granted, Jamie hadn’t exactly framed it as a romantic getaway. More of a, _hey your parents are going on a cruise and mine went to Europe and Jordie’s going to his girlfriend’s, so why don’t we spend Christmas together_ thing. But still. Tyler had hoped. A snowed-in chalet, eggnog by the fire, Jamie’s warm, beautiful eyes focused solely on him with nothing to distract either of them…

He certainly hadn’t envisioned going to Tyson fucking Barrie’s house on Christmas Eve.

“You’re shitting me,” he said, digging in his heels when Jamie told him at the baggage carousel. “We’re spending Christmas with _Barrie?”_

Jamie gave him a confused look. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just—” Tyler grabbed his bag with a groan and followed Jamie through the terminal. “I didn’t realize we were going to—I don’t know—see anyone else. I thought it was just us, I guess.”

Jamie laughed out loud. “Why would it just be us? Nah, man, Tys got abandoned for Christmas too, so I thought it’d be fun to spend it together. There are a few Avs in town still, they might join us too.”

“Great,” Tyler said weakly. He followed Jamie into the car and forced a smile when Jamie grinned at him.

He liked Tyson, although he didn’t know him that well. He and Jamie always went out together when they were in the same city, but no one else was ever invited. Tyson was obviously important to Jamie but Tyler had never felt the urge to become his friend.

And now he was spending Christmas with him.

Things went downhill from there.

 

Tyson greeted them at the door wearing a red elf hat that sat askew on top of his curls. The tip of his nose was pink, as were his cheeks, and his eyes were sparkling as he hurled himself into Jamie’s arms.

“You’re here, you’re here, you made it!” Tyson was clinging to Jamie’s broad frame, patting at his arms and shoulders like Jamie might be a figment of his imagination.

Alarm skittered down Tyler’s spine. Tyson was standing… awfully close. And Jamie was smiling down at him as Tyson tipped his head up to beam at him, the stupid hat sliding backward.

Tyler cleared his throat and Tyson whipped around, clearly startled.

“Segs! You’re here too?”

“Jamie… told you I was coming, right?” Tyler shot a look at Jamie, who shifted his feet. Tyler’s mouth fell open. “Jamie fucking Benn, you look me in the eyes right now and tell me Tyson knew I was coming.”

“It was last minute!” Jamie said, and Tyler threw his hands in the air.

“I can’t _believe_ you.”

“Tyson won’t care!” Jamie argued.

“It’s not about him not caring,” Tyler shot back. “It’s about being _thoughtful_ and letting your host know you’re bringing an extra goddamn guest to eat their food and take up their space!”

“It’s _Tyson,”_ Jamie said, his mouth taking on that mulish set. “He doesn’t care.”

“I don’t, really,” Tyson piped up. He was looking back and forth between them, a concerned wrinkle on his forehead. “You’re always welcome, Seggy. And there’s more than enough food!”

Tyler glared at Jamie a minute longer, then turned to Tyson. “I apologize on his behalf.” He sounded stiff and he knew it, but he couldn’t make his voice soften. Fucking _Jamie._ “I can get a hotel.”

“No fucking way,” Tyson said. He grabbed Tyler’s arm and pulled him over the threshold into the warmth of the house. “Come on in, I have two guest rooms, you’ll be right next to Jamie. Let me show you where to put your stuff.”

Tyler followed him upstairs, aware of Jamie trailing behind him but still too angry to look at him. Bad enough he’d been dragged off to Colorado _not_ for a romantic ski vacation. Bad enough Jamie hadn’t bothered to tell him _or_ Tyson that Tyler was tagging along. But even worse was the way Jamie had cupped Tyson’s elbows, keeping him on his feet as his beautiful smile bloomed, the one he only ever used for people he cared deeply about.

Tyler’s stomach twisted. Was Jamie in love with Tyson?  Was _that_ what this was about?

Tyson threw open the first door and pointed inside. “Yours,” he told Tyler. He opened the door beside it. “And yours,” to Jamie. “Make yourselves comfortable, everyone else should be here within the hour.”

 

Tyler tossed his bag on the end of the bed and put his hands on his hips. He was tempted to go to a hotel anyway. The last thing he needed was to watch the man he’d been in love with for years put the moves on Tyson fucking Barrie. _Tyson Barrie._ Tyler snorted derisively. He was a walking disaster, a dumpster-fire in human form. He had no filter—whatever entered his head came right out his mouth. He’d lost his chance to compete at Worlds because he’d been _wrestling_ in his hotel room and needed sixty stitches in his leg, for Christ’s sake!

Tyler shoved his hands through his hair, snarling. Not only was he losing Jamie, but he was losing him to a man who thought _Dairy Queen_ was good ice cream.

He yanked the door open and nearly ran into Jamie face-first.

Jamie took a quick step back.

 _Oh, you’ll catch Tyson but not me,_ Tyler thought. A bubble of hurt lodged under his breastbone. “What?” he snapped.

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Are you really mad at me?” He sounded bewildered.

Tyler clenched his jaw. “I’m fine.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced. He put a hand on Tyler’s chest and pushed. Off-balance, Tyler stumbled backward, and Jamie stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Leaning back against it, he crossed his arms.

“Let’s have it.”

“There’s nothing to ‘have’,” Tyler said between his teeth. “Get out of my way so we can go be proper guests.”

“Not until you tell me what’s bothering you,” Jamie said. He had his captain face on, and Tyler sagged, giving in to the inevitable.

“You didn’t tell either of us—me _or_ Tyson—that this was happening. You just—what, assumed it didn’t matter? That it wasn’t important enough to mention?”

Jamie looked even more baffled.

“I don’t like being an afterthought,” Tyler hissed. He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, knocking Jamie sideways, and slipped through before Jamie could respond.

He found Tyson downstairs, muttering frantically to himself as he pulled something blackened from the oven. Tyler coughed, waving off smoke.

“Can I, uh… help?” _With a fire extinguisher, maybe?_

Tyson dropped the tray on the marble countertop and slapped the oven door shut. Tyler leaned over and peered at the contents of the tray.

“Are those… cookies?”

“At one point,” Tyson said morosely. The doorbell rang and he jerked his head up. “Shit. _Shit.”_

“What, what’s wrong?”

“That’s probably Gabe,” Tyson said. He looked _panicky,_ eyes darting from side to side as he shifted in place. “He’s going to see this and he’s going to _laugh_ at me—I’m usually a decent cook, I just got distracted, but he’ll give me so much shit—”

Tyler sighed. “Go get the door, keep them in the living room. I’ll deal with this.” The look on Tyson’s face was pure gratitude and Tyler almost softened toward him. “Go!”

Tyson scrambled for the front door as the bell rang again and Tyler surveyed the blackened lumps of cookies. Only thing for it was swift removal. He grabbed an oven mitt and the tray and opened the back door with the other. Thank God for Colorado’s heavy snowfalls. Tyler dumped the cookies in a snowbank and kicked more snow over the top until they were completely covered, then brought the tray back inside and shoved it inside the dishwasher. Tyson could deal with its cleanup later.

He left the door open for a few minutes, swinging it back and forth to encourage the smoke to clear, until he heard footsteps.

He was hip-deep in the refrigerator when Gabriel Landeskog walked in the room.

Tyler backed out holding a beer. “Oh hey man,” he said casually. “Want one?”

Gabe’s eyebrows twitched suspiciously. “Why does it smell like smoke in here?”

Tyson peered past his shoulder. He looked like an elf caught stealing something from Santa, red-faced and guilty. It wasn’t cute at all.

Tyler tossed Gabe the beer. Gabe caught it reflexively, scowling at him. Tyler winked. “Want one, Tys?”

Tyson nodded as the doorbell rang again. “Shit. Um. I’ll get it in a minute.” And he disappeared back down the hall.

Tyler took another beer out of the refrigerator and leaned back against the counter. “Gabe the babe,” he drawled.

A muscle jumped in Gabe’s jaw. “Nice to see you again, Seguin.” He said it wrong—clearly a deliberate choice—and Tyler fought the twitch. “Didn’t know you were joining the party,” Gabe continued. “Or Jamie, for that matter.”

“Yeah well, apparently Tyson and Jamie think communication is for suckers,” Tyler said. He popped the can and took a long swallow. “Who else are we expecting tonight?”

Gabe shrugged. He looked unfairly good in a dark maroon velvet jacket that only served to highlight his perfectly blond hair and high cheekbones. Tyler hated him.

“Nate, obviously. EJ was going to try to come. JT and Josty, I think. Everyone else went to family or had family come to them.”

“Should be great,” Tyler mumbled, and drank some more beer as Nate bounded into the room.

 

It was chaos for a while, and Tyler missed Jamie joining the throng, but at some point he found himself in the living room, head spinning from some craft beer EJ had insisted he try. Nate had put on Christmas carols and was singing obnoxiously in front of the tree. JT and Josty were squeezed into one of Tyson’s armchairs, laughing at Nate. Tyler glanced over to see Jamie sitting on the couch next to Tyson, their heads together. Jamie was grinning as he whispered something in Tyson’s ear and Tyson threw his head back and laughed.

Tyler had abruptly had enough. He stood up and stepped over various pairs of feet, making for the kitchen as Jamie glanced up.

He didn’t say anything, though, and Tyler kept going.

Gabe was in the kitchen when he got there, his jacket off and the top button of his shirt undone. He looked rumpled and tired and—Tyler looked closer. _Sad._

“You okay?” Tyler asked before he could think better of it.

Gabe visibly started. “Fine,” he said hastily. He lifted the beer in his hand as if remembering it was there and took a drink.

“EJ get you to try that craft shit he brought?”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Only every time I see him. I’m never getting drunk on that stuff again. Last time my vomit tasted like rose petals. Who puts _rose petals_ in beer?”

Tyler snorted and stepped past him to rummage in the refrigerator for another drink. “Tyson and Jamie are looking cozy out there.”

“Yeah.”

Tyler turned, resting his hips against the counter. Gabe was staring at the beer in his hands, turning the can absently. There was a wrinkle on his forehead.

“Oh,” Tyler said, light dawning. _“Oh._ You and… _Tyson?”_

Gabe jerked his head up violently. “What? _No!_ What did you—where did you get that idea? We’re just—we’re just friends.”

“But you want more, don’t you?” Tyler asked. His suspicions were confirmed when Gabe slumped against the counter and rubbed his face.

“He has no idea. He thinks we’re just friends.”

Tyler snorted louder. “Have you heard even a single soundbite from a single interview he’s given? He can’t stop himself from thirsting after you for a red-hot second.”

“That’s just Tyson,” Gabe said, but the tips of his ears were turning red. “He’s—you know. Tyson. No filter.”

“Right, which is why I know he’s got it bad for you.”

Gabe shook his head, brow furrowed. “If he did, he’d have—”

“Said something? Like you did?”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to be all high-and-mighty with me, Seg-win. Have _you_ told _Jamie?”_

Tyler pointed his beer at him. “That is none of your goddamned business. Keep your perfect Swedish nose out of my personal life.”

“When you stay out of mine,” Gabe shot back.

They stared at each other across the kitchen for a minute. Jamie’s laugh drifted in from the living room and Tyler twitched.

“Fuck. _Fuck._ Fine, you win. Happy?”

“Not really.” Gabe sighed. “What are we going to do?”

“Fuck if I know,” Tyler said morosely.

“No.” Gabe set his beer down hard. “I refuse to let Tyson be stolen by Jamie goddamn Benn and his goddamn cow eyes.”

 _“Hey,”_ Tyler protested, stung, but Gabe overrode him.

“We’re going to work together,” he said, and he did captain face almost as well as Jamie, Tyler thought. “I’ll help you get Jamie and you help me get Tyson.”

“Help you—” Tyler sputtered. “All you have to do is _blink_ and Tyson would throw himself at you.”

“I’ve tried that,” Gabe snapped. “And hinting. And suggesting. He thinks it’s _funny.”_ Gabe spat the word like a curse. “At least, he does when he doesn’t think I’m taking the piss for being so far out of his league.”

Tyler blinked a few times. “So he—”

“Nope.”

“And you—”

“Yep.”

“You need my help.”

“Yep.”

“And you’ll help me with Jamie?”

“Yep,” Gabe said yet again, popping the P.

“How?”

Gabe grinned at him, white and feral. “They’re not going to know what hit them.”

 

“You’re shitting me.”

Gabe looked far too innocent. “Why would I do that?”

“You can’t possibly think this will _work.”_

Gabe shrugged. “Got a better idea?”

Tyler floundered. “You—but—isn’t it kind of… manipulative?”

“Maybe,” Gabe said. “But look at it this way—if they really _don’t_ care, then it won’t bother them at all. And then we’ll know.” He cocked his head. “Don’t you want to _know,_ Tyler?”

Did he? Tyler thought about it. Did he want to know if he had a chance, or would he rather keep living in this limbo?

“I don’t like it,” he finally said. “I don’t want to kiss you.”

“You think I do?” Gabe retorted. “You’re not my type, believe me. I like them short and disastrous.”

“But you still want to…” Tyler stalled out.

“Again, the floor is open to other suggestions.”

“I just can’t imagine _kissing_ you,” Tyler admitted.

Gabe laughed softly. “So maybe we should practice.” He took a step around the counter and Tyler froze. Gabe got closer and all Tyler could do was watch as Gabe took the last steps and then they were pressed together.

Tyler swallowed. From this close, he could see the tiny lines fanning around Gabe’s eyes, the dimple in his chin, the way his mouth curled indulgently when he put one hand on Tyler’s waist. It was warm even through the fabric, and Tyler’s pulse kicked into high gear.

“Um,” he said eloquently.

“Close your eyes and pretend I’m Jamie,” Gabe suggested.

Tyler suppressed a half-hysterical laugh. Gabe was _nothing_ like Jamie. Gabe was sharp style, predatory smiles, perfectly tailored and turned out and together. He wasn’t Jamie, who hated getting up in the mornings, who put too much gel in his hair because he couldn’t be bothered to style it, and who played on the floor with Tyler’s dogs until he was covered in slobber and dog hair.

He closed his eyes anyway. He felt warm breath on his face and then soft, dry lips touched his. Tyler jolted and Gabe’s grip tightened.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Remember why we’re doing this.”

 _Jamie._ Jamie laughing at Tyler’s jokes. Jamie getting excited at the thought of seeing Santa. Walking Tyler’s dogs for him when Tyler had sprained his ankle that time. Cooking for Tyler. God, Tyler loved him.

This time when Gabe moved in, Tyler kissed back. He was kissing Jamie, the scrape of beard and the soft lips, Jamie’s big hands on his waist, thumb stroking gently over Tyler’s hipbone. Tyler pressed forward, licking inside and savoring the startled breath. He brought his hands up, tangling them in soft hair—no gel, and that nearly pulled Tyler out of the moment, but he squeezed his eyes tighter shut and pushed the thought away—gripping the strands of hair and angling his head to get the perfect position.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t hear the footsteps down the hall until it was too late.

“Oh _shit.”_

Gabe and Tyler startled apart to see Nate staring at them, mouth slack with shock. Before anyone could move, there were running footsteps and Tyson and Jamie appeared.

Tyler looked at Gabe. His lips were swollen and red with kisses, his face flushed and hair on end from being pulled. Tyler couldn’t see himself but he knew he didn’t look much better. There was no question what they’d been doing.

He forced himself to look at Jamie. He didn’t know what he expected to see. Hurt? Betrayal? Indifference?

He met Jamie’s eyes and felt the air leave his lungs like he’d been punched. Jamie was _angry,_ his eyes stormy and mouth set like stone. Without a word, he shouldered past Nate and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Tyler should have felt vindicated. He should have felt triumphant.

He wanted to throw up.

 

GABE

Gabe didn’t look at Tyson at first. He busied himself setting his hair to rights, smoothing his clothes where Tyler had mussed them up. Jamie left the room in a rush and Gabe took a moment to be happy for Tyler, who was still standing as if frozen in place.

Then he looked at Tyson, and the bottom fell out of his world.

Tyson was very still, his eyes huge. He was clutching that silly red hat in both hands, utterly motionless, and as Gabe stared at him, his lip trembled briefly. Guilt split Gabe’s ribs in two. He couldn’t breathe. Before he could say anything, though, Tyson shook his head and visibly pulled himself together. He plastered a smile on his face.

“You and Tyler, huh?”

“Tys—”

“I have to go check on my other guests,” Tyson interrupted, and disappeared down the hall.

“I’m—” Tyler shifted his weight, taking longing glances at the stairs. “Excuse me.” He bolted out of the kitchen, leaving Gabe alone with Nate. Who did _not_ look happy.

Gabe swallowed hard. “Nate…”

Nate shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it.” There were thunderclouds in his eyes, his big fists clenched by his sides. “Fucking… _Tyler_ _Seguin?_ After all the times you’ve come over to my place and gotten drunk and whined to me about how Tyson doesn’t see you that way and what’s wrong with you and why can’t he just like you back?” He was getting red, and Gabe spared a moment to wonder if he was going to be punched.

“I can’t believe you’d go for Tyler Seguin when Tyson is _right there,”_ Nate snarled.

Gabe’s self-control snapped. “You think I would? You really think I’d choose _Tyler_ over _Tyson?”_

“You fucking did!” Nate roared, and somehow they were nose-to-nose. “You had your tongue down his fucking throat, Gabe, how is that not choosing him?”

Gabe pushed Nate away with both hands. Nate allowed himself one step back, but his face didn’t soften.

“I didn’t—fuck, this is all fucked up.” Gabe clutched his hair and bent double, struggling to draw in air. He’d just wanted to show Tyson what he was missing, help Tyler get Jamie; he’d never imagined he’d end up truly hurting the person he cared about most. “I have to go,” he said.

“You have to make this right,” Nate growled.

Gabe straightened, and whatever Nate saw on his face made him take a step back.

“Excuse me,” Gabe said, and stalked past him.

But Tyson wasn’t in the living room. JT and Josty looked up from the chair where they were playing Mario Kart.

“What’s up with Tyson?” Josty asked.

“Where is he?”

“Grabbed his coat and took off,” JT said, and blue-shelled Josty with a whoop of triumph.

 _Fuck._ Gabe snatched his own coat from the closet and bolted out the door. Snow was falling, but it was light enough that Gabe could follow the footsteps down the sidewalk. He broke into a careful run, slipping and skidding on the icy pavement and swearing under his breath.

He didn’t have far to go. He’d always suspected Tyson had chosen his house based on the proximity of the Dairy Queen just two blocks away.

Sure enough, Tyson was sitting in a booth in the far corner, out of sight of the door. His shoulders were hunched around his ears, back to the entrance as Gabe stumbled inside.

Gabe hesitated a minute. He had no idea what to say. As he watched, Tyson put his face in his hands and his shoulders shook. Gabe couldn’t _bear_ it. He lunged for the table, forgetting about his wet shoes, unsuited for walking in snow and ice.

His feet went out from under him and he hit the floor with an almighty crash, taking a nearby table down with him in his flailing sprawl. The world dipped and swung for a minute, his vision dimming, and he could hear voices raised in alarm.

“Gabe? _Gabe!”_ Tyson sounded frantic. That wasn’t good. Tyson should never sound like that.

Gabe opened his eyes, blinking at the ceiling, and Tyson leaned into his field of vision. He looked worried, his eyes pinched and mouth drawn down.

“I’m fine,” Gabe managed. “Did I—break the table?”

“Who gives a shit about the table?” Tyson demanded. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Gabe tried to sit up and Tyson grabbed his elbow, steadying him. “Don’t move yet,” he ordered. “You might have a concussion.”

Gabe couldn’t help his smile. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.”

Hurt immediately replaced the worry on Tyson’s face and he let go. “Don’t,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself. He looked small, fragile, and guilt prickled Gabe’s skin all over again.

“Tys,” he said quietly. “Tyson, will you look at me?”

Tyson sighed and lifted his eyes. There was quiet resignation in them. “I know you don’t want to lose me as a friend,” he said. “It’s okay, Gabe. This won’t change anything. I just needed a little time to… process.”

Propped on one elbow, still on the cold, hard floor, with several employees hovering around the edges of their little bubble as if not sure they should intervene, Gabe could only gape at Tyson.

“Of course I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” he finally said.

Tyson nodded. “You won’t. I’m—” He swallowed. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh my god,” Gabe said. He sat up and grabbed Tyson’s face, pulling him into a kiss. As a first kiss, it wasn’t very good. There were noses bumping, teeth clacking together, and Tyson freezing against his mouth in shock as Gabe tried to find the right angle.

He didn’t push it for too long before easing away, still holding Tyson’s face in both hands. Tyson gaped at him, mouth hanging open unattractively. The tip of his nose was pink, and Gabe couldn’t help kissing it, which just made Tyson gape more.

“What—you— _what—”_

“I love you,” Gabe said baldly.

Tyson’s eyes went huge. “You _what?”_

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” Gabe said. Tyson’s skin was so soft. He couldn’t resist stroking his cheek briefly, and noted Tyson’s shiver with a thrill of glee. “Every time I do, you laugh it off or you get mad at me because you think you’re not in my league or something.”

“I’m _not,”_ Tyson sputtered, but he didn’t pull away. “But—Tyler—”

Gabe groaned and folded forward, pressing his forehead to Tyson’s shoulder. He smelled warm and sweet, like apple cider and cloves.

“That was a really fucking stupid idea,” he admitted, not lifting his head. “I’m sorry, Tys, I’m an idiot. I thought… if I kissed him, if you saw me kissing him, then I’d know how you felt about me once and for all. I didn’t—” He swallowed hard. “I truly didn’t even think it would _hurt_ you, Tys, I thought—” He pulled back. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… wanted you.”

“So you kissed someone else.” Tyson’s voice was flat, unreadable, and Gabe hung his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Tyson murmured, but oh, that was affection in his voice, and he was cupping the back of Gabe’s head and tilting it up, that was a _smile_ on his face, and then they were kissing and Gabe couldn’t help the moan.

Tyson shuddered all over and his fingers tightened. He slipped his tongue between Gabe’s lips and he tasted like sweet cream and chocolate syrup. Gabe’s head was spinning again, his surroundings dissolving around him.

Until someone cleared their throat above them. Gabe jerked away, blinking rapidly, to see a tall woman standing over them, hands on ample hips. Her eyes were amused.

“Not that I’m not happy for you both,” she said dryly, “but the floor is not the best place for this.”

Tyson scrambled to his feet, stammering apologies, and helped Gabe up before holding a hand out to the manager.

“We’ll, uh—get out of your hair,” he said, and practically dragged Gabe from the restaurant.

“Do you think they recognized us?” Gabe asked as Tyson towed him down the sidewalk.

“I just moved to the neighborhood,” Tyson said. He slowed so they were side by side, fingers still linked. “Unless someone’s a superfan, we should be okay.” He stopped and Gabe turned to face him. Tyson’s eyes were wide and vulnerable, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Did you really—”

“Did I really what?” Gabe asked when Tyson hesitated. His hands were cold, so he didn’t cup Tyson’s face the way he wanted. Instead he slipped them inside Tyson’s open coat, curving his fingers around Tyson’s ribs.

 _“God,”_ Tyson said, shivering, and he pressed closer. “You meant it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, smiling down at him. “Can we go back to your place now?”

“You’re from Sweden, aren’t you supposed to be able to handle snow?” Tyson sniped, but he peeled Gabe’s hands off his ribs, capturing one with his own as they began to walk again. “I wonder how Tyler and Jamie are doing,” he said as they walked.

They discovered very quickly that they weren’t doing well. Tyler was sitting on the couch, looking shell-shocked, hands dangling between his knees. EJ, Josty, and JT were nowhere in sight, but Nate was sitting a few feet away from Tyler, looking miserable, like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how.

He brightened when Gabe and Tyson stepped inside, and took in their clasped hands with a widening smile. But it slipped when he looked back at Tyler.

“What happened?” Gabe asked. He squeezed Tyson’s hand and let go to sit down beside Tyler. “Segs? Can you talk to me?”

Tyler just shook his head. There were tears on his face, his eyes red. “I fucked it up.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Jamie left,” Nate rumbled. “The others went home too, but Jamie—he grabbed his bag and took off.”

“Oh, fuck,” Gabe said. “Tyler?”

Tyler didn’t move.

“Okay,” Tyson said. “Tyler, you’re staying here tonight. We’ll get you to the airport in the morning, or you can stay and celebrate Christmas with us like we originally planned.”

“No,” Tyler said. His eyes were miserable but clear when he lifted his head. “I just want to go home. I’m—I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“It’s okay,” Gabe told him. “I’ll drive you to the airport.”

Tyler went upstairs to get his bag and Gabe took the opportunity to stand and gather Tyson to him, ignoring Nate’s whoop of joy.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and kissed him.

Tyson melted into it, warm and responsive as he wrapped both arms around Gabe’s neck. “Be fast,” he whispered when they broke apart.

They were a few feet apart when Tyler reappeared with his bag. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, nodding vaguely at Nate and Tyson and heading for the door.

The drive to the airport was silent. Tyler stared out the window the whole time, fingers tapping his knee to a restless rhythm only he could hear.

Gabe didn’t try to speak until he was pulling up to the terminal. “Tyler.”

Tyler turned to look at him, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim car.

“This is my fault,” Gabe said, misery coating the words. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m happy for you and Tyson,” Tyler said. He got out of the car and grabbed his bag, heading inside the building without looking back.

Gabe watched him until he was out of sight and finally put the car in gear and drove back to Tyson’s.

 

Tyler got lucky—he found a flight with no connections that had him home by two in the morning. He stumbled in the front door, dropping his bags and wondering why it was so quiet before remembering that the dogs were at the boarder’s. The house was cold and still, and Tyler turned the heat on before staggering upstairs to collapse in his own bed.

He woke up the next morning muzzy-headed, his eyes gritty. His path to the bathroom was a little uneven and done with his eyes closed, but by the time he was finished, he felt a little less cotton filled. He needed coffee.

Downstairs, he got the grounds into the machine and turned it on just as his front door opened. Tyler straightened, startled, and then froze as Jamie appeared in the doorway.

He still looked angry, and Tyler tensed reflexively, ready for a fight.

“What do you want?” he asked warily.

Frustration and anger and other emotions too fast to read flickered over Jamie’s face. “To talk to you.”

“Talk or yell?”

Jamie set his jaw. “I’m not going to yell.”

“Oh, lucky me.” Tyler glared at the coffee machine, willing it to brew faster. “So talk,” he said over his shoulder.

Jamie said nothing.

Tyler turned around. Jamie was standing in the doorway, big hands loose by his sides.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Why not?” Tyler countered. He was exhausted, strung out from the events of the day before, and the guilt wouldn’t stop churning away in his stomach. At the same time, anger was growing, a spiky ball in his chest that made it hard to breathe. “You don’t own me, Jamie. You have no claim on me. Why shouldn’t I kiss someone hot who said he wanted to kiss me?” He pushed away from the counter as the fury burst outward, flooding his limbs with prickling adrenaline. “How dare you make this _my fault?_ How dare you blame me for this when you have never, not fucking _once,_ said anything to make me think you cared about me?”

“I _do_ care about you,” Jamie protested, taking a quick step forward. His eyes were miserable, shoulders drooping. “Ty—”

“You _left._ You just took off. What was I supposed to think?” Tyler said. “You made me feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie whispered. He hunched his shoulders, ducking his head. “I’m—I didn’t—Tyler, it was like—I couldn’t think about anything else. I saw you in his arms and you were so obviously into it and I just—I lost my head.”

“Why?”

Jamie somehow hunched even more. “You know why.”

“I want to hear you say it,” Tyler countered. “Plain English. Tell me why you were so mad at me for kissing another man.”

“Because you’re _mine,”_ Jamie snarled, lifting his head.

Tyler’s breath caught.

Jamie crossed the kitchen in two quick strides and pushed Tyler up against the cabinets. The counter dug into Tyler’s hips but he didn’t care. Jamie’s hand was on his throat, his body pressing along Tyler’s in a scorching line of heat. His eyes were dark with possessive fury.

“You’re mine,” he growled, and kissed him.

Tyler whimpered and Jamie let go of his throat to wrap both arms around him and haul him closer, mouth hot and hungry and demanding. Tyler was willingly drowning in it, the smell and feel and taste of Jamie all he could process.

Jamie bent and lifted him, dropping Tyler on the counter with almost no effort, then stepping between his knees.

“Fuck,” Tyler breathed, and then Jamie was dragging him back into another kiss. His hands were everywhere, pushing Tyler’s shirt up and spanning his ribs, delving below his waistband, and Tyler groaned, bucking against the teasing touches. “Jamie—” He fought to clear his head as Jamie attacked his throat, leaving a series of bruising nips down it. _“Fuck,_ Jamie, stop a minute—”

Jamie lifted his head. His eyes were blown black with lust and he ground his erection against Tyler’s thigh, making him forget what he was going to say.

“I—can’t _think—_ ” Tyler clutched Jamie’s shoulders to steady himself, gasping for air. “No,” he finally managed as Jamie tried to go back to sucking another mark into his skin. “No, we’re _talking._ Like actual grownups.”

Jamie glowered but he took a step back. Tyler swallowed hard at the visible bulge in his pants, and adjusted himself before sliding off the counter.

“Back up,” he said. “I can’t—I need to concentrate. This is important.”

A smile flickered across Jamie’s face but he took another step back, until he was leaning against the kitchen island.

Tyler touched his own mouth. It felt bruised and swollen from Jamie’s kisses and Jamie’s eyes darkened at the sight.

“No,” Tyler said, pointing at him. “Stay right there and let me say this.” He clutched the counter for balance. “I don’t _get_ it. You never said a word. You’ve _dated,_ you asshole, you—” He clenched his fists. “You think I belong to you but it doesn’t go the other way? You’re allowed to fuck around but I’m not? Because that’s bullshit, okay, that’s—”

Jamie cut him off. “That _is_ bullshit.”

Tyler blinked, train of thought lost. “I—what?”

“I would never do that to you,” Jamie said. Now he looked unhappy again, shoulders creeping up. “I didn’t _know,_ Ty. I swear to you. I didn’t know, I had no idea you were—” He growled in wordless frustration when he couldn’t find the words. “I saw you, in Gabe’s arms, and your eyes were closed and you were having a _good time,_ don’t try to deny it, you _were._ And I—” He shrugged helplessly. “I realized what I’d been missing all this time _and_ I realized I’d lost my chance at having it, at the same time. It fucking _hurt,_ okay? I didn’t know what to do. I got angry because I was mad at myself for being so blind, not because you were kissing someone else.” He paused. “Well. _Mostly_ not because you were kissing someone else.”

“Do you want to know why I looked so into it?” Tyler asked.

Jamie hesitated. “I’m not sure if I do or not,” he admitted.

“Because I was imagining it was _you,_ asshole,” Tyler said. He fought the softening in his chest at the smile spreading across Jamie’s face. “I didn’t want to kiss Gabe. He suggested it because he’s head over heels for Tyson and he wanted to find out if either of you had feelings for us. It was manipulative, I know it was. But—” He rubbed his face. “I’m lonely, Jamie. And it was nice… to be held again. I wanted it to be you, the whole time, but I also just wanted someone to _want_ me.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Jamie burst out.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to argue,” Tyler said dryly.

“No. I just—I’m sorry, Tyler. Can you forgive me?”

Tyler nodded and Jamie took a step forward. Tyler put out a hand.

“One more thing. I may be yours but don’t think for a second that it doesn’t go both ways. You’re mine too, got it?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, grinning, and closed the distance between them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrap-ups of both couples

“It’s Christmas,” Jamie said, an indeterminate amount of time later.

“Hm?” Tyler blinked, struggling to focus. He felt drunk on Jamie’s mouth, warm and cozy and content all tangled up on the couch together.

“Christmas,” Jamie repeated, kissing him again. “What would you like to do?”

“This is good,” Tyler said, tugging Jamie’s head back down. 

Jamie laughed quietly against Tyler’s mouth. “Just kiss all day?”

“Mmhm,” Tyler mumbled, tracing the line of Jamie’s bicep with a finger. 

Jamie hummed. “We’ll get hungry eventually.”

“Nah.” Tyler curled forward, rearranging until his head was on Jamie’s chest. He could feel Jamie’s heart thumping steadily under his ear and he smiled to himself. 

Jamie cupped his head, combing through Tyler’s hair. “God help me,” he murmured. 

“I thought you were in love with Tyson,” Tyler said, half-asleep. 

Jamie’s chest vibrated with his laugh. “Tyson? God, that’d be like… falling in love with my brother. I’ve known Tys forever. I  _ do  _ love him but we’d kill each other before the week was out if we were together.”

Tyler closed his eyes. “But you’re in love with me.” It was half a statement, half a question.

Jamie tipped Tyler’s head back and met his eyes, face deadly serious. “I’m ridiculously head over heels in love with you, Tyler Seguin.”

Tyler knew his smile was dopey but he didn’t care. “Good.” He put his head back on Jamie’s chest. “I’m in love with you too. Even when you’re an idiot.”

He fell asleep smiling, Jamie shaking with silent laughter. At some point, he woke up enough to realize that Jamie was shifting them around so they were both stretched out on the couch, and Tyler turned his face for a kiss before falling back asleep, Jamie’s arms around him.

 

He dreamed of warmth and safety, touches that set his skin alight and sent heat curling through his body in slow, lazy waves. He woke with a gasp with Jamie’s hand down his pants, working Tyler’s shaft steadily.

Tyler’s back arched and he scrabbled for purchase on Jamie’s shoulder with his free hand.

“Hi,” Jamie murmured, his strokes never wavering. 

Tyler opened and closed his mouth but couldn’t find words. Jamie let go briefly and Tyler whimpered, but it was only to pull Tyler’s pants down so he had more room to work. Tyler moaned with relief when Jamie’s hand closed around him again.

Jamie was propped on his side, back against the couch, one thigh over Tyler’s and his eyes intent on Tyler’s face. Tyler had been the subject of his focus before but never like this. It was unnerving, intense, and a little terrifying. Surely, Jamie could see right through to Tyler’s soul, know exactly who and what kind of person he was with that searching gaze.

Tyler turned his head, tilting his chin up in a wordless plea, and Jamie sealed their lips together. Tyler sank into it, letting Jamie lead as he explored Tyler’s mouth with hot sweeps of his tongue. Jamie rubbed the tip of Tyler’s cock, smearing the pre-come around to help the glide of his hand, and Tyler bucked, panting against Jamie’s mouth.

He was close, he was going to come, he hadn’t even  _ seen _ Jamie’s cock, but he could sooner stop the tides than what was about to happen. He clutched at Jamie’s wrist and Jamie deepened the kiss, drawing Tyler’s orgasm to the surface in smooth, controlled strokes. Tyler twisted, pinned in place, helpless and desperate and feeling safer than he ever had before.

He sobbed as he came, spilling over Jamie’s fist in wet, pulsing throbs, body strung taut as a bow.

Jamie didn’t stop or slow down until Tyler was shaking and begging against Jamie’s lips, tears leaking down his face. Then Jamie lifted his head and gentled his strokes, easing him through the aftershocks as Tyler curled blindly into Jamie’s body, trembling like an aspen in high winds.

“—so good,” Jamie was crooning when the roaring in Tyler’s ears abated. “So beautiful. God, I love how responsive you are.” He tipped Tyler’s chin up and kissed the tears off his face, lips warm. “Okay?”

Tyler nodded, come-drunk and stupid.

“You’re never an afterthought,” Jamie said. “Everything revolves around you, baby. Something happens and I wonder what you’d think. You’re always on my mind when we’re not together. I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty.” He rubbed small circles on Tyler’s ribs. “You’re just… always there. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Tyler managed to get his arm free and wrapped both around Jamie’s neck, pulling him down until he could feel Jamie’s breath hot on his skin. 

“I love you,” he said. 

Jamie’s breath caught. He lifted his head. “You do?” He looked stunned, somehow, like this was news. 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “What part of “you’re mine too’ wasn’t clear?”

Jamie grinned at him and it was as heartstopping as usual. Maybe more so from being so close to it. 

“It’s just nice to hear,” he said. 

Tyler wriggled around, pushing and pulling until Jamie was flat on his back, legs parted so Tyler could crouch between them. He was still hard, and Tyler licked his lips. Jamie’s eyes darkened. 

“I love you,” Tyler repeated, and dropped his head. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tyson thought maybe he was dreaming. No, he was definitely dreaming. There was no way Gabe was actually kissing him, murmuring nonsense against Tyson’s skin as they cuddled— _cuddled_ —on the couch. Nope, this was definitely a figment of Tyson’s fevered imagination, brought on by too much pining and Butterfinger Blasts.

Which meant Tyson was determined to make the most of it until he woke up, so he slipped his hands under Gabe’s shirt, running his fingers across satin skin as Gabe’s breath hitched.

“Tys—God.”

Tyson made an encouraging noise. He wanted to know what Dream Gabe would do next. Greatly daring, he pushed one hand under Gabe’s waistband, cupping the curve of his ass.

Gabe _groaned,_ hips twitching. And then he jerked his head up. “Wait a fucking second,” he said.

“No no no,” Tyson complained, trying to pull him back down. “I don’t wanna wake up yet.”

Gabe’s forehead wrinkled at that. God, he was so cute. And hot.

“So are you,” Gabe said, which was when Tyson realized he’d said that out loud.

_Oops._

Gabe pushed himself to his knees and Tyson groaned, reaching for him plaintively. “What did you mean, you’re not in my league?”

“What? When?” Tyson propped himself on an elbow, blinking up at Gabe, who was… scowling. Why was he scowling?

“In the Dairy Queen,” Gabe said. “I said you thought you weren’t in my league or whatever, and you agreed.”

“Right,” Tyson said.

“Why would you say that?” Gabe demanded.

Tyson blinked at him. “Because… I’m… not?” He said it slowly, as if to someone not blessed with too many brains.

“Yes you fucking _are,”_ Gabe snapped.

Tyson rolled his eyes and flopped down onto his back. “Gabe. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Oh wait, it’s you, of course you have.” Gabe poked him in the ribs and Tyson yelped, stifling a laugh, and shoved his hands away. “My _point_ is, you’re…” He gestured vaguely. “Like, a twelve. On a scale of one to ten.”

Gabe looked skeptical but pleased.

“And I’m a seven,” Tyson said. “Eight on a good day.”

Gabe didn’t look pleased at all.

“Dude, it’s fine,” Tyson said, trying to pull him back down again, but Gabe refused to move. “I do okay for myself. I’m just saying, I know I’m not in the same hotness category.”

“Bullshit,” Gabe said abruptly, and stood. He grabbed Tyson’s hand and pulled him off the couch, dragging him protesting up the stairs to the bedroom.

“What’s wrong with the couch?” Tyson complained, digging in his heels. “It’s not like anyone was going to walk in on us.”

“I am _trying_ to win this argument, Barrie,” Gabe said through his teeth.

“What argument? Are we arguing?”

Gabe gave him a disbelieving look and bullied him through the bedroom into the bathroom. Tyson liked his bathroom. It was one of the reasons he’d bought the house—that and the proximity of the Dairy Queen, of course. The bathroom was huge, a two-person shower in the corner and a bathtub almost big enough to swim in spanning the back wall. Tyson liked bubble baths and he refused to apologize for that.

“Are we showering?” he asked.

Gabe glared at him and muscled him around until they were facing the mirror on the near wall. He plastered himself up against Tyson’s back, hooking his chin over Tyson’s shoulder, and pressed their cheeks together.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered.

Confused, Tyson looked. His face was flushed, hair standing up in wild curls from where Gabe had run his fingers through it, and his shirt was rucked up.

“What am I looking at?” he finally asked.

 _“You,”_ Gabe said. He wrapped an arm around Tyson’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are.”

Tyson shook his head, but Gabe was so close that he just ended up jostling their faces together. “You’re delusional. Look at _you.”_

“What makes you think this is a competition?” Gabe demanded. Tyson leaned sideways to see him better and Gabe grabbed his face, turning it back to the mirror.

Tyson coughed a laugh. “Gabe, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Look,” Gabe said stubbornly, and Tyson sighed and looked. Gabe traced the slope of his nose with one finger. “You have the cutest nose. It’s so straight—”

“Unlike the rest of me,” Tyson interrupted, and Gabe gave him an annoyed look in the mirror. “Sorry,” Tyson said through his giggles. “Do continue.”

Gabe scowled but he touched Tyson’s hair. “I love your curls. I love the way they cling to your skin when you’re all sweaty and damp.” His eyes softened and he pressed a finger to Tyson’s mouth. “But this. This is my favorite thing.”

Tyson wasn’t quite able to suppress the shiver. “Why?” he asked.

“Because it looks like you’re always about to smile,” Gabe murmured. He followed the curve of Tyson’s lips with his finger. “You’re always so happy. You make me happy just looking at you. Your mouth is beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful.”

Tyson pulled away just far enough to turn in Gabe’s arms and go up on his tiptoes, pulling Gabe’s head down until their lips met in a hungry, desperate kiss. Gabe tightened his grip until they were plastered together from head to toe in a long line of heat.

“Gabe,” Tyson managed when they broke for air. Gabe’s eyes were wide, the blue of his eyes only a thin ring around his blown pupils. “Gabe, _please—”_

Gabe bent and got his hands under Tyson’s thighs. He lifted and Tyson got the idea immediately, pushing off his toes as he went airborne and wrapping his legs around Gabe’s waist. Gabe grunted, steadying him.

“You’re heavy.”

Tyson grinned down at him, arms looped around Gabe’s neck. “Take me to bed, Landesnerd.”

“Can you please not call me that when I’m being romantic?” Gabe complained, but he carried him out of the bathroom and to the bed, where he dropped him. He was on the mattress within the next breath, hard and solid on top of Tyson, who arched up against him. “Do you believe me?” he asked, mouth a scant inch from Tyson’s.

Tyson leaned up in a vain attempt to catch Gabe’s mouth, but Gabe pulled back, arching a brow.

“Goddammit,” Tyson growled. “Fine, whatever, can you please kiss me again?”

Gabe narrowed his eyes in that way he had that said he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead he bent and kissed Tyson and then went to his knees, still straddling him.

He pushed Tyson’s shirt up to his armpits and his face took on an expression of wonder that made Tyson want to squirm. He didn’t have Gabe’s ripped abs, it was true, but Gabe was staring as if Tyson’s core, even with its faint layer of extra padding, was the best thing he’d ever seen.

Tyson was only human. He couldn’t resist putting on a show. He arched his back and took a deep breath, lacing his hands behind his head. Gabe stared hungrily at his body and then glanced up, a grin tugging his mouth.

“You don’t have to peacock for me,” he said, putting one big hand on Tyson’s ribcage. “I’m a sure thing.”

He dropped his hands to Tyson’s belt before Tyson could come up with a clever retort, and Tyson was abruptly reminded that he was turned on and had been for a while, as Gabe dragged his zipper down.

Tyson lifted his hips and helped Gabe pull his pants off, catching his breath when his erection fell free, slapping against his stomach.

“Jesus,” Gabe muttered. He looked up. “Can I blow you? Please?”

“God yes, _fuck_ yes, _please—”_ Tyson’s babbling was cut off with a shout as Gabe lowered his head and oh god, he’d definitely done this before. Part of Tyson wanted to know where Gabe had picked up the trick of using his tongue in _just that way_ but the rest of him was too busy writhing and clutching at Gabe’s head, caught up in wet heat that threatened to turn him inside out.

Gabe was jacking him steadily as he worked him over with his mouth, eyes closed as if in bliss. Tyson clutched at Gabe’s hair, wrapping the silky strands around his fingers on one hand and stroking over his cheekbone and down with the other, memorizing the feel of his slight stubble, the jut of his jaw, the way his eyelashes feathered over his cheeks.

“Gabe—” Tyson gasped, and Gabe hummed, sending jolts through Tyson’s groin. “Fuck, I’m close—” He tightened his grip in Gabe’s hair and tried to pull him off, but Gabe ignored him and Tyson curled up off the bed as he came down his throat, choking on a cry. It seemed to last forever, the waves of pleasure rolling through him, and Gabe swallowed almost all of it, a few drops sliding down his chin as he lifted his head.

Tyson’s cock twitched at the sight and he collapsed back onto the bed, draping an arm over his eyes. _“Fuck.”_

“How’d I do?” Gabe asked, and fuck, his voice was raspy. From _sucking Tyson’s cock._ Tyson groped feebly for him without moving his arm and Gabe laughed and crawled up his body, dislodging Tyson’s elbow so he could kiss him. His mouth tasted bitter and sharp and Tyson shivered.

“I think—you killed me,” he managed.

Gabe was fumbling with his pants between them. He got the buckle free with a grunt of triumph against Tyson’s mouth and rolled off briefly to push them down.

“Can I rub off on your abs?” he asked when he was back.

Tyson gaped at him. “Jesus fucking Christ, of course you can.”

“You’re so hot,” Gabe said fervently, and kissed him again.

Tyson put everything into kissing him back as Gabe grasped himself. Tyson could feel his knuckles and the head of his cock brushing his abdomen with each pass of his hand, and Tyson twined his arms around Gabe’s neck, delving into his mouth and nipping sharply at his lower lip.

Gabe groaned into it, hand speeding up, hips jerking. “Tys,” he moaned against Tyson’s mouth. “Tys, I—”

“Yeah, baby, I know,” Tyson said, swamped suddenly with tenderness, and Gabe froze as wet heat splashed Tyson’s belly.

“Fuck, _fuck,”_ he panted, and sagged, just enough to the side that he didn’t crush Tyson with his weight.

Tyson ran a contemplative finger through the mess on his stomach. Gabe rolled his head enough to meet his eyes and Tyson put his finger in his mouth.

Gabe’s face twisted and he surged forward into a desperate kiss. “Christ,” he gasped when he let him go. “You’re gonna kill _me.”_

Tyson hummed happily and curled on his side, sliding down enough that he could press his face to Gabe’s chest. Gabe’s arm was warm when he slung it over his ribs.

Definitely not a dream. Tyson smiled to himself. He could live with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out writing Tyson is an absolute delight, to no one's surprise.
> 
> I was gonna put the gif of Gabe talking to the camera while Tyson stares at him with hearteyes, but I can't find it. So have Tyson reading the Valentine's Day card Gabe wrote to him instead.
> 
>   
> 
> EDIT muaha I found it:
> 
>  
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr, come say hi!](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a mature or adult way to handle feelings, please don’t try this at home
> 
>  
> 
> [(But feel free to come hang out with me on Tumblr)](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com)


End file.
